Sabotage in Space Page 3

  CHAPTER 3

  "Where is Captain Strong?"

  Startled, Commander Walters glanced up to see Major Connel enter hisoffice, accompanied by Professor Hemmingwell. The thin little manscowled with irritation as he walked right up to the commander's desk.

  "I wanted Captain Strong here for this meeting," the professorcontinued.

  "Of course," replied Walters. "Captain Strong _should_ be here." Heturned to Connel. "Have you seen him, Connel?"

  As Connel lowered his bulk into a soft chair, he sighed. "Steve is withhis unit, chewing them out over that fight with the _Capella_ unit."

  Walters grinned. "You heard about our trial, Professor?"

  "Yes," replied Hemmingwell stiffly. "Frankly, I cannot see how CaptainStrong can ignore this meeting to hold hands with those infantilecadets."

  Connel's face turned red and he glanced quickly at Walters, whose facewas approaching the same color. Neither expected such a comment from ascientist.

  "Professor," said Connel heavily, leaning forward in his chair, "Iassure you Steve Strong is _not_ holding their hands. In fact, I wouldhate to be in those cadets' shoes right now."

  Hemmingwell grunted and drew back from Connel's burning glare. "Be thatas it may," he said. "I cannot see that the staff of this institutionhas done anything constructive for the last three days. So far as I'mconcerned, this childish talk about a common fight has been a completewaste of time."

  "Professor Hemmingwell," said Commander Walters, rising from his chair,"if there had to be a choice between your project, as valuable as it maybe, and the valuable lesson learned today by my cadets, I'll tell youright now that the lesson would come first. This was a very importantissue. The cadets had their real taste of democracy in action today,down on a level where they could understand it. And, I dare say, thereare quite a few boys who heard that childish talk, as you put it, andwill remember it some time in the future when they are called on to actas officers of the Solar Alliance."

  Connel cleared his throat noisily. "I think we'd better get on with themeeting," he said. "Do you have the plans and specifications,Hemmingwell?"

  But the wiry professor refused to be dissuaded. He faced CommanderWalters and wagged his finger under the spaceman's nose.

  "You have a perfect right to your own ideas concerning the education ofyour cadets!" he shouted. "But I have a right to my ideas regarding myspace projectile operations. I've devoted a good part of my life to thisplan, and I will not allow anything, or anyone, to stand in my way."

  Before Walters could reply, Connel jumped up and growled.

  "All right! Now that we've got the speeches out of the way, let's getdown to work."

  Walters and the professor suddenly stopped short and grinned at thebrusque line officer, who, for all his bullying tactics, knew how totake the edge off a touchy situation. Walters sat down again andHemmingwell spread out several large maps on Walters' desk. He pointedto a location on the chart of the area surrounding Space Academy.

  "This is the area here," he said, placing his finger on the map. "Ithink it is best suited for our purpose. Dave Barret and Carter Deversconcur--"

  "Someone mention my name?"

  The sliding door to the commander's office opened and a tall,distinguished man with iron-gray hair entered, followed by a handsome,younger man.

  "Devers!" exclaimed Hemmingwell in obvious delight. "I didn't expect youuntil this evening."

  "Got away earlier than I figured," replied the elder man, who thenturned to the two Solar Guard officers. "Hello, Commander Walters, MajorConnel. Meet Dave Barret, my assistant." He gestured toward the youngman beside him and they shook hands in turn.

  "Well," said Devers, "have we missed anything?"

  "Just starting," replied Walters.

  "Fine," said Devers. "Oh, by the way, I want it understood, Commander,that while I am lending Dave to you to work on the operation with theprofessor, I'm not even going to let you pay him. He remains on mypayroll, so you can't take him away from me. The Jilolo Spaceways wouldbe lost without him."

  Walters smiled. "All right with me," he said.

  "I don't care _who_ pays him, as long as he's with me on this,Commander," said Hemmingwell, wiping his glasses carefully. "That youngman has a mind equipped with a built-in calculator."

  Dave Barret grinned in obvious embarrassment. "If Mr. Devers can devotehis time to you for one credit a year as salary, I have no objections toworking on this project," he said. "In fact, I told Mr. Devers that ifhe didn't let me come down here, I'd quit and come, anyway."

  Hemmingwell beamed. "Well, now, if Captain Strong were only here, wecould get along with the business at hand."

  Devers frowned. "Why is he so important?" he asked.

  "Steve has been placed in charge of procurement for the construction ofthe hangar and getting the spur line in from the monorail station,"replied Connel. "And that reminds me, Professor," he continued. "Whereis your hangar going to be? And where is that spur coming in from? Arewe going to have a lot of building to do to get that blasted thingsnaked over those hills?" Connel pointed to the protective ring of highrugged peaks that surrounded the Academy.

  "That's why Dave Barret here is so important," replied Hemmingwell. "Hefigured out a way of tunneling through this section here"--he pointed toa particularly rugged section of the hills--"at half the cost ofbringing it straight in on that plain there."

  Connel and Walters studied the map closely. "Very good," said Walters.

  "You think you can do it, Dave?" asked Connel.

  "I'm sure I can, sir," replied the young man.

  "And save time?" growled Connel.

  "I'll have that line through, and in operation, bringing in the firsthaul of hangar material in three weeks."

  Impressed by the young man's confidence, Connel turned to CommanderWalters and nodded.

  "Well, if you can do that, Barret," said Walters, "Professor Hemmingwellwill have to begin his operations now, won't you, Professor?"

  "That's right," said the wiry old man. "Right now, this very minute."

  Devers suddenly spoke up. "I would like to have one thing explained,Commander, unless, of course, it's a breach of security, but--" Hehesitated.

  "What is it?" asked Connel.

  "I've been going along with you for some time now," explained Devers."But I still don't know the exact nature of the projectile you proposeto build. What's the purpose of it?"

  "You certainly deserve an answer to that question," said CommanderWalters warmly. "You've contributed your services to this operationabsolutely blindly. Now you should know everything." He paused andlooked at Hemmingwell and Connel, who nodded in return. "Carter," heresumed, "we are going to create a spaceship that can launch a largeprojectile filled with cargo and send it to any small area."

  Carter Devers' face lighted up. "You mean, you are going to firepayloads from space freighters instead of landing with them?"

  "Exactly," said Walters. "These freighters will deliver mail andsupplies to out-of-the-way settlements that do not have a spaceportlarge enough to handle the giant freighters and have to depend onsurface transport from the larger cities."

  Carter Devers shook his head slowly. "This is the most amazing thingI've ever heard of in my life."

  "I thought you'd be surprised, Carter," said Walters, his face glowingwith pleasure. "The big item, of course, is to lick the problem ofstandardizing the receivers for the projectiles. They must belightweight, easily assembled, and precision made, since it's going tohave an electronic gismo inside for the projectile to 'home' on."

  Professor Hemmingwell grunted. "That electronic gismo, as you call it,is the real idea behind the whole operation."

  "How is that, Professor?" asked Devers.

  "Well, it works on this principle," began Hemmingwell. "The receiverwill send out a distinctive radar beam. In the spaceship, the projectiledesignated for that receiver will be tuned in to the frequency of thatbeam and fired from the ship. A homing device, built into the
projectilewill take over, guiding it right down the beam to its destination."

  "And how does that radar beam work?" asked Devers.

  "That," said Connel stiffly, "is a military secret."

  "Of course," nodded Devers, smiling. "I was just curious."

  "Well, now that we're agreed on a site for the operation," saidProfessor Hemmingwell, "is there anything else you want to discuss,Commander?"

  "Not for the moment, Professor," replied the commandant of SpaceAcademy. "You have any more questions, Major Connel?"

  When Connel shook his head, Devers spoke up again.

  "There is something else I would like to know, if it isn't a breach ofmilitary secrecy," he said with a smile at Connel. "I don't rememberseeing anything about this project in the bills sent before the SolarCouncil. When was it authorized?"

  "It wasn't," snapped Hemmingwell. "It was blocked before it came to avote. So I ran around the whole Solar Alliance, begging and borrowingthe money to finance the project myself."

  "And the Solar Guard is just lending technical assistance andfacilities," supplied Walters. "Of course, should the project succeed,we will go before the Solar Council with an emergency request toincorporate the idea into the defense of all Solar Guard outposts."

  "Private capital, eh?" said Devers, turning to look at the professoradmiringly. "You are a very brave man, Professor Hemmingwell, to risk somuch. And, I might add, you must be an excellent salesman to sell SolarAlliance bankers your ideas."

  "Common sense," snorted the professor. "Plain horse sense."

  "Still," insisted Devers, "most of the bankers with whom I've ever triedto talk common sense _were_ horses." As everyone laughed, he turned toWalters. "Now, just what do you want me to do, Commander?"

  "Carter, you've done so much for this project already that I'm going togive you a rest," said Walters.

  "I don't understand."

  "From now on," Major Connel broke in, "the project will be in the handsof the professor. If he needs anything, he'll tell Steve Strong. IfStrong can't fulfill the request, he'll pass it on to Commander Walters,and if the commander feels it necessary to have your help, he willcontact you."

  "You understand, of course," said Walters, trying to soften the major'sflat statement.

  "Of course," replied Devers easily. "Still, if you need my help on thisthing at all, don't fail to call me."

  "Thank you, Carter," said Walters. "You've been a great help already."

  Shaking hands all around and wishing them well, Devers left the office.Dave Barret, Commander Walters, and Professor Hemmingwell turned totheir study of the map, but Major Connel remained where he was, rubbinghis chin thoughtfully. He shook his head as if to brush an impossibleidea out of his mind and then turned to the map.

  * * * * *

  Tom Corbett, Roger Manning, and Astro stood at rigid attention in theirdormitory room, backs ramrod straight, eyes front, hands stiffly attheir sides. Captain Steve Strong, his face red and voice hoarse, strodeup and down in front of them.

  "And another thing!" he roared. "This court reprimand goes on yourofficial records, and you're going to spend your time on guard duty likeany common Earthworm that doesn't know its rocket from its pocket!" Fornearly half an hour the cadets had listened to their unit instructorbawl them out. "When I think," he continued, "when I _think_ of howclose you three space brats came to getting kicked out of the Academy--"Words seemed to fail the young captain momentarily and he slumped on oneof the bunks and looked at the row of cadets, shaking his head. "Why, inthe name of Saturn, I ever accepted the responsibility of making youthree bird brains into cadets is beyond me. And to think that when youfirst came here, I thought you had that special something to make you anoutstanding unit. I even went out on a limb for you. And now you pull astunt like this."

  Behind them, the door opened and a short man, no more than five feettall, but with the bulging muscles of a tiny giant stretching hisbright-red enlisted man's uniform, stepped inside. He saluted Strongsmartly.

  "Chief Petty Officer Rush here to assign the _Polaris_ unit to guardduty, sir," he announced.

  "All right, Firehouse," said Strong, using the man's nickname. "Give itto them. Show them no mercy. By the rings of Saturn, they've got to bemade to realize their responsibilities!"

  "Yes, sir," said the thick little man.

  Strong walked out of the room without another word, nor even a backwardglance at the cadets.

  As soon as the door closed, Timothy "Firehouse" Rush faced the threecadets, his beaten and battered face glowing with anticipation.

  "Get this!" he growled. "When you're assigned to guard duty with theE.M.'s of the Solar Guard, you leave your immunity as cadets here in theAcademy. From now on, you belong to me. And I'll tell you right now,there isn't anything in space that I hate more, or think less of, thanSpace Cadets. You get special privileges you don't deserve because youwear that uniform. You get a chance to learn to be a spaceman and mostof you muff it. I've got E.M.'s in my outfit that could blast circlesaround either of you--guys that deserve the chance you've got, andfouled out because they can't spell or don't know how to hold a cup oftea with their fingers the right way. When you come to me, it meansyou've done something bad. You're on your way out. And I'm going to trymy best to see that you make it--_out_." He took a step forward andglared at them. "Report to me at 1800 hours and"--his voice dropped to agravelly roar--"you better not be late--and you better not be early."

  He spun on his heels in a perfect about-face and left the room.

  "There is only one consolation," sighed Tom. "The _Capella_ unit isgetting the same thing we're getting."

  "Here we go!" breathed Roger slowly.

  "I've been thinking about quitting the Academy, anyway," growled Astro.